


Seikkailut Joffrey Waters seinällä!

by Worffan101



Series: Four Badasses In Westeros [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alright I ship Lady Death and Simo Häyhä now, Audie Murphy is a badass, Cathartic mockery of Joffrey Waters because he sucks, Do not screw with Tywin Lannister, I blame AH.com, Lady Death is tired of all of these hero-complex-bearing men, NedxCat cute feels b/c I love them, Period-Typical Sexism, Robert Baratheon is still Robert, The Hound is a badass, not entirely sure how that happened, per his idiom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6241303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worffan101/pseuds/Worffan101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fourth one-shot in my ongoing short story series.  Lady Death has joined the Badasses, but the insane Lysa Tully has threatened a war by abducting her sister and the heir to Casterly rock.  The Badasses are on the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seikkailut Joffrey Waters seinällä!

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, finally got this done. More Finnish and Ukrainian; the Finnish is basically cussing out the kennelmaster and threatening to shoot him for mistreating the mama direwolf, the Ukrainian is profanity and "damn Finnish SOB". Enjoy!

Robert sat back in his chair in the Small Council chamber with a grunt and a sigh. Tywin Lannister was already seated, Baelish's books and a large stack of paper already arrayed in front of him.  
  
"Alright, Lannister, let's figure this out," Robert grumbled, still sore from six hours of grueling Finnish "exercise therapy". "I've drunk with your son, the Imp, before, and he seems a bright fellow, good head for those damned fiddly numbers. I want him for Master of Coin."  
  
"That seems reasonable," Tywin nodded, then he snarled. "This is absurd, this book shows less than half of the money the Rock has loaned to the Crown! No wonder that filth Baelish's brothels were doing so well."  
  
"He cheated me that badly?" Robert asked in surprise. "Seven hells! Must be my own damn fault for not paying attention. Heh, that's it, I just have to treat those damn fiddly coins like a war, then they'll make some sort of sense, eh! What do you have so far, anyway?"  
  
Tywin Lannister felt a prick of rage at such casual treatment, but he suppressed it; he was still on very shaky political ground, thanks to his idiot children. "Your brother Stannis left two minutes ago, your Grace; I believe that there is enough evidence here to seize all of the former Master of Coin's brothels in the name of the Crown, and your goodly brother has taken it upon himself to do so, reliable man that he is. That should return _most_ of the money that we need...and here! I know for a fact that the Arbor sells their gold to you at half-price so that you may be seen drinking it before the realm, yet it's listed here at twice the normal price per cask. Damnation, but Baelish was clever!"  
  
"Cheating little shit, should've killed him myself," Robert grumbled. "Well, how long will it take to repay you--and the Iron Bank, for that matter?"  
  
"Well, we should start with confiscating the brothels. A low business, but the capital should raise enough to support the realm through another year. I honestly do not believe that you need the Rock's gold at this point; either my gold or the Iron Bank's, either one the Crown can afford to stop taking at once. Since you are no longer holding feasts or tourneys as frequently thanks to your man with the complicated name's advice, that also reduces expenditures, and the brothel seizure would net us enough to get through the year at least." Tywin growled at a particularly irritating memory. "Lord Stannis wanted to drive all of the brothels from King's Landing, but Lord Stark and I managed to talk him down before the hidebound fool did something rash."  
  
"Hey, watch how you speak, Lannister. Stannis is a tightwad with a stick up his ass, but he's still my brother."  
  
"Yes, your Grace," growled Tywin Lannister, again reminding himself of the politics of his situation. _Damn you, Cersei..._ "On a different topic, I believe that it is possible to repay both the Rock and the Iron Bank in ten years at the most, even if the Crown cannot reacquire all of the money lost to the traitor Baelish. You still owe me a considerable sum, but..."  
  
The door burst open, and Ned Stark strode in, practically exuding an aura of ice. Robert perked up. "Ah, Ned! Good to see you, man, I assume the men you sent after the Mountain are back? C'mon, sit, Lannister and I are just working through the books."  
  
"I regret that I cannot, your Grace," growled Lord Stark, his voice colder than the depths of winter. "And yes, my men have returned, with your hired woman, Lord Tywin." Tywin straightened with an intake of breath; damn, his best piece had been taken! "However, that is not why I am here." He slammed a letter down on the table, voice still cold and toneless. "I received this letter by raven from the Eyrie not ten minutes ago. Lady Lysa has ordered my wife and Lord Tywin's son imprisoned; they were captured at the Bloody Gate and are being held at the Eyrie."  
  
"WHAT?" roared Robert and Tywin at the same time, the latter springing to his feet as the former sat forwards sharply, too tired after his workout to leap to his own feet. Tywin continued, oblivious in his wrath. "Why that no-good, jumped-up little slut! I tolerated the offense to my name the first time, since you showed good faith and pay your debts, Lord Stark, but this? This is too much! The offense to the Lannister name will not go unpunished, not so soon after your wife's false accusations! This means WAR!"  
  
"I may not want an expensive war, but I feel your sentiment," growled Lord Stark. "Lysa says that my wife is being held over the traitor Baelish's death, and refuses to acknowledge the mockingbird's treason. This must be answered, I will not let her abuse my lady wife so!"  
  
"Why that little..." snarled Tywin. "When I get back to the Rock I'll..."  
  
"Wait a minute, both of you!" shouted Robert. Both men turned to face him. "A war costs money, yes?" Ned and Tywin looked at each other, then back at Robert, and nodded slowly. "Seven damned Hells, why am I the calm one here? Ned, Lannister, I'm just as angry and eager to bash some heads in as you are, but correct me if I'm full of shite, but a war costs a lot of money. Money that thanks to the little fucker, we don't have, yes?"  
  
Tywin and Ned looked at each other again, and regretfully nodded.  
  
"Right. So it seems to me, Ned has three fine men who can tear any knight in the realm a new hole to do his business with. Men who don't look like much, and know street fighting and knives. Why don't we send _them_ to the Vale, have them get into the Eyrie, take your fair wife and your Imp son back, and get back here, none's the wiser?"  
  
Tywin turned to Ned, who looked at Tywin. Both men nodded. "I will get Häyhä and Murphy at once," the Northman announced.  
  
Not to be outdone, Tywin added his own. "And I will send two of my soldiers, Pavlichenko and the Hound. How dare that trout bitch imprison my son!" Tywin fumed with rage; who did she think he was? He was Tywin Lannister!  
  
Someone knocked on the door, short and sharp.  
  
"Seven hells, just come on in!" roared Robert. The doors opened, revealing a Stormlander in a lightning-bolt tunic, the White Death (wearing simple, mud-streaked clothes and a wide grin), and two men-at-arms guarding a wiry brunette woman with a long sniper rifle and a pistol.  
  
"Hello, Lordship!" announced the Finn with his usual brilliant smile. "Job done! _Sika mies_ Lorch and _umpeen vaahto_ Gregor Clegane are dead. I shot them myself! Very foolish men, really. But this woman, _Neuvostoliiton paskiainen_ Lyudmila, she almost killed me! Very good shooting! You should pay her to fight for you, too, very good lady sniper, for Soviet bastard."  
  
"Lord Lannister," Lady Death addressed her employer with a brisk nod. "Regretfully, the pig Lorch and the brute Clegane were killed in battle. This man," and she jerked a thumb at the Finn, "shot them both. Very good shooting, quite professional. I will return half of the advance as agreed."  
  
"Not necessary," growled Tywin. "You have a new mission. You're working with Stark's man there, the Hound, and a commoner called Audie Murphy to get my son back from the Eyrie."  
  
"And my wife," the Hand put in with a hiss of his own. "My goodsister has gone mad and captured my lady wife and Lord Tywin's son, endangering the peace of the realm and _keeping my wife in a cell_. Häyhä, you will go with Audie Murphy and Lord Tywin's men to the Eyrie, and you will bring my wife back within a month, or I will march on the Vale with the Lannister host at my side."  
  
The White Death smiled again, nodding. "It will be done! Come, lady sniper! We will rescue the fair lady, save the handsome rich prince, and all will be good!" He saluted Lord Stark. "I will save your wife, no need to worry!" He turned to go, Lyudmila following minus her bemused guards.  
  
"Oi! Wait a moment!" Robert shouted. "Since I'm the gods-damned sober one today, I give the godsdamn orders! You and Murphy and the Hound and this woman, you try not to kill too many people, you here me, man?"  
  
Simo Häyhä nodded with another grin. "Yes, sir, king man! _Pidä tappiot minimiin._ Minimal casualties. Come, _nainen tappaja_! We have work to do."  
  
The snipers left, the Finn whistling a jaunty tune as the Ukrainian checked her ammunition pouch with a frown.  
  
"Jumped-up trout bitch," Tywin snarled, still fuming with rage. "How dare she...my son, the heir to the Rock! How dare she insult House Lannister like this! I should burn her damned hall to the ground!"  
  
Ned Stark said nothing, but merely fumed with icy rage.  
  
Robert sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in his hands. He wasn't wallowing in self-loathing as much anymore, thanks to Juutilainen's incessant encouragement, but he was _not_ ready to be the sensible one out of himself, Ned, and Tywin fucking Lannister. "Dondarrion, you stay here, tell me what in the Seven Hells happened, in detail."  
  
"Yes, Your Grace."  
***  
Audie Murphy kicked down the door to the brothel, lunged for the first pimp he saw, and slammed the man against the nearest wall. "EVERYBODY FREEZE! Put your hands in the air and get on the ground, now! This property is now confiscated by the crown, in the name of the king!"  
  
He didn't put much emphasis on "crown" or "king", because damn it, Audie Murphy was still a well-raised American boy, and that included the traditional American stubborn independent pride and American dislike of landed nobility. Behind him, Sandor Clegane provided the towering, scarred muscle to back up Audie's threats, hopefully without causing another incident of Audie Murphy beating a particularly objectionable criminal half to death with his own shoes. From the other side of the brothel came more splintering sounds as Bywater's goldcloaks shoved their way in.  
  
Audie Murphy had been relieved to find that a minority of the watchmen actually took their jobs as police seriously, and had been rather fiercely satisfied when Bywater had uncerimoniously fired half of the others. Now, Bywater's personally-selected elite guards were working with Audie and the Hound to "repossess" several of the former Master of Coin's brothels for the government, a duty which Audie Murphy was quite happy to undertake. Simo had regaled Audie, Juutilainen, and the Hound with far too many tales of Baelish's creepy habits for Audie to feel any sympathy or respect for the dead man.  
  
"You! On the ground, now!" Audie barked, aiming his rifle at a man who looked like the drawing he'd been shown of this particular establishment's head pimp. Sandor moved around the smaller man, yelling for the few patrons waiting at this hour to leave as fast as their legs could carry them. Most obeyed. A couple had to be literally kicked out, protesting in vain.  
  
The pimp hit the ground, shaking in terror. Audie motioned to Sandor, who sheathed his sword and hauled the man to a kneeling position, swiftly binding his hands. "Mr. 'Medium' Dave Smythe, you are under arrest for being an accomplice to corruption, accomplice to treason, and money laundering," Audie said with just a touch of good cheer. "I sure hope that you've got a good lawyer, because otherwise you're looking at exile at best."  
  
"Look, I just take the money Baelish gives me, take my cut and pass the rest off as earnings!" the unfortunate Smythe whined. "You can't exile me for that!"  
  
"That was the Crown's money, worm," growled Sandor. "And the Crown got it from Tywin Lannister." Smythe went even paler and whimpered. "You can wait here for Bywater, scum. Murphy, you watch him?"  
  
"Sure. Take the door on the right, meet up with Bywater's people around the rear entrance."  
  
"Got it." The big man threw the door open, roared at the corridor's terrified occupants to leave, and jogged for the other end.  
  
"Look, I'll pay you!" Smythe begged. "A dozen gold dragons, I swear! Just let me go, I'll be on my way to Braavos within the day, I'll give you a dozen dragons and a sack full of stags, just let me get the money and go!"  
  
"Sorry, sir, but I don't accept bribes." Audie Murphy's voice was colder than beyond the Wall. Smythe licked his lips and tried again, but Audie moved his gun up to the man's face. "Don't even try another offer." Smythe clammed up.  
  
"Murphy! Job's done, building's secure!" bellowed the Hound as he arrived again, this time with two goldcloaks in tow. "There's the prisoner, take 'im to wherever he's supposed to go. Job well done, Murphy, we'll drink well tonight."  
  
"Agreed," the soldier replied, flipping the safety of his weapon back on and shouldering the rifle, the goldcloaks hauling the protesting Smythe away as Sandor and Audie moved to stand guard by the door. "You want to--hey, Simo!"  
  
"Audie Murphy!" the scar-faced Finn greeted with a smile and a wave, jogging up with a rifle-armed woman in tow. "This is Lyudmila, a lady sniper, very nice lady for a Soviet rat! You will like her, I think. Are all things done here?"  
  
"Just wrapping up," the American replied. "How was the mission?"  
  
"Oh, very good! I killed several very bad men, then the lady Death here almost killed me. She is very good at shooting, so I offered her a place with us."  
  
"Good evening," the woman said with a Russian-sounding accent. "I am called Lyudmila Pavlichenko, Major in the 25th rifles, Red Army." She was good-looking in a Russian way, solid in build and moving with the grace of a predator. Audie Murphy accepted her offered hand and shook.  
  
"Audie Murphy, ma'am, First Lieutenant, US Army. You're a Soviet?"  
  
" _Так._ Ukrainian SSR, specifically. I fought in the Great Patriotic War, what you call World War 2. You?"  
  
"The same, on the western front. I was in a nasty little scrape in the Colmar Pocket."  
  
"Oh, you're the one who broke the Fascists' lines in that forest in France! Damn fine job, I heard on the news, from America."  
  
"Well, nice to meet you, anyway, ma'am, even if you are a Commie," Audie said, saluting his fellow soldier. Lyudmila returned the gesture.  
  
"Likewise. You don't seem half bad, for a Capitalist degenerate."  
  
"See!" Simo exclaimed, his trademark infections grin broad and brilliant with gleaming white teeth despite his scarring. "I knew they would like you, lady sniper! Now, ah, to business! Lord Stark and the king man have ordered me to take you and Sandor Clegane here with the lady sniper and go to rescue Lord Stark's wife from the Vale. It seems that she has been kidnapped, and we must rescue her."  
  
"Aw, shit, not that fucking crazy bitch Lysa Tully," groaned the Hound. "I heard that she still feeds her son from her teat, and him six years old! Figures she'd do something fucking mad like that. When do we leave?"  
  
"Now, said the king man. We are to be quiet and rescue the lady, and Lord Lannister's son, in secret," the Finn replied.  
  
"Give us a half-hour, we need to check with Bywater and make sure that we can go--" Audie started.  
  
"I'll go get him," grunted the Hound. "Wait here, Murphy, and don't you fucking dare leave without me. And you, Heya?"  
  
"Häyhä," corrected the Finn.  
  
"Yeah, that. Did you get my brother?"  
  
"The very large man? Oh, yes, I shot him in the head, killed him."  
  
"One blow." The big man snickered. "One fucking blow! Ha! Gregor can rot in the seven fucking hells, killed with one blow! I owe you drinks, man, thats...ha ha HA! Oh, gods, if only I could have seen that! You have to tell me later, outlander, when we're on the way; I'm not missing one single damned detail! One blow! HA!"  
  
"Well," said Lyudmila as the Hound jogged back into the building, snorting with laughter. "His family must have little love lost."  
  
"That...is quite the understatement," replied the American. "But it's not my place to talk about that."  
***  
_The Wall_  
  
"Come on, lads," said Jaime Lannister with a smile. "Try your luck!"  
  
The three black brothers on the other side of the makeshift ring looked at each other, none wanting to make the first move. The audience, about twenty other black brothers, egged them on.  
  
"Come on, rush him!" urged Hairy Hal. "Rush him, flank him, take him down!"  
  
"They can't do that, not fast enough," argued another man. "Barleycorn's nowhere near good enough to take on the Kingslayer, not even if Lannister were too sick to fuck a whore."  
  
"I wouldn't bet against my prowess, but then again that's me," noted the Kingslayer, striking a rakish pose. "Well, come on, lads, don't you want to say you took down the Kingslayer?"  
  
"C'mon, at'im, ye cowards!"  
  
That finally did it. One of the men charged; Jaime disarmed him with a flick of his wrist, sidestepped and tripped the man with a knee hook; impressively, the black brother kept his feet, albeit barely. Jaime spun around and swiftly parried a stab from the second man, driving his sword into the ground and backhanding him, sending the black brother stumbling backwards. The third man tried for Jaime's side, but too slowly; the knight dodged with a swift backwards step, then lunged forwards with a sweeping blow, twisting the sword out of his opponent's hand and driving him stumbling backwards. The second man recovered and tried again with a shout, and found himself disarmed, on his face on the ground, and with Jaime's blunted practice sword tickling the back of his neck. "Dead."  
  
"Yeah! Lannister again!" roared one of the spectators. There was a chorus of cheers and groans as bets were called in; Jaime saluted with a charming grin. He was surprising himself with just how much he _liked_ it here; his sword skills had made him easily the most popular man at the Wall, the other Night's Watch men not actually caring about the whole Kingslayer business. Up here, all that mattered was how many wildings you could kill and how quickly, which Jaime supposed made sense. "Anyone up for another bout?"  
  
Before anyone could answer, Jon Snow rushed into the hall, out of breath. "It's...Ser Allister...and Joffrey, he...hah...he's complaining that Ser Allister won't let him win!"  
  
There was an immediate stampede for the doors as the Wall's _other_ new source of entertainment was apparently now available. Ever since Joffrey had threatened to execute the Lord Commander for DARING to not provide Joffrey with a softer bed inside of his first week, bets had been taken as to how long the brat would last, followed by an informal group of rangers actively trying to keep the brat alive to avoid any illicit assassinations for the sake of fairness of the betting pool.  
  
"C'mon, Lannister, drinks are on me," offered one of Jaime's recent dueling partners, Jaime sheathing his sword and wiping his brow with a sigh. "Hey, you alright? You look a little pale."  
  
"Just...he's a brat, and there's something wrong with him, in the head I mean, but...he is my son," Jaime replied. "I just...he's rotten, but I don't think he deserves to be up here with scum like Cotter Pyke and men like me."  
  
"Hey, you ain't half bad, for a Kingslayer. And what else was the little shit going to get, the sword?"  
  
"True. At least Tommen's going to be a maester; honestly, I think the lad prefers it this way, ever since that Tarly lad tanned Joff's hide for trying to hit Tommen. But sometimes...I just don't think that even Joffrey deserves what the Wall offers. You know what I mean?"  
  
"Yeah. This shit-hole ain't no place for lads. You fight until you die, up here. Not a good place, 'specially not for a young lad. C'mon, Lannister. Let's drown your sorrows, there's some half-decent ale this week, not the usual swill. I'll get you an extra mug."  
***  
_King's Landing_  
  
"Father?" asked Sansa Stark quietly.  
  
The Hand of the King looked up from his work, saw his daughter and her wolf in the doorway, and slid his chair back. "Ah, Sansa, sweetling. I'm very sorry, I have been extremely busy of late. What is wrong?"  
  
"Will I still be wed, Father? I...I know that Joffrey's never coming back, but I...I still want to..." She petered off, unable to properly articulate her emotions.  
  
Eddard sighed, standing from his chair and wrapping his daughter in a hug. "Sansa, I promise you, you are better off without Joffrey. And I promise you, you will be wed to a lord appropriate to your station, and I will find one who will treat you well." There was a click of nails on stone, and Lady the adolescent direwolf padded in, twining herself around Sansa's legs.  
  
"I...thank you so much, Father. Is...will Mother be..."  
  
"I have Audie Murphy and the smiling man out retrieving her. They will succeed." He put extra certainty into his voice, despite the fear for his wife gnawing at his gut. "You know guardsman Murphy, yes?"  
  
"Yes, he helped me when I woke up after that day on the Kingsroad. He will rescue Mother?" She looked up, her eyes wide. "Oh, Father! It'll be wonderful, like a story! I...after what they said about Joffrey, and how Myrcella said that he hurt her and Tommen, I did not know that the stories were true!"  
  
"They are not," snapped Eddard, but he instantly regretted his harsh tone, and released his daughter with a sigh. "Sansa, sweetling...the stories and songs, they...simplify things. You have heard one about a brave young Prince going to war to rescue a lovely Princess from a vile kidnapper?"  
  
"Oh, yes!" Her eyes shone wide. "That one is true? Or...not?"  
  
"That story was Robert and your Aunt Lyanna. Only, the story did not mention that the young lord never saw his lady love again, that she died in pain and grief with her brother, who had failed her, by her side, and that the brave lord drove himself to rot in his grief. The stories of brave lords winning the realm from a wicked King and marrying the most beautiful lady in the land? They do not say that the brave lord never wanted to marry that lady, nor she him, nor do they mention that she hated him and vice versa, or that she slept with her brother to produce a sadistic brat like Joffrey. Your mother and I...we are the best of friends, Sansa. She loves me and I love her, even though we were never intended for each other. But we were both very scared, the first few years; it took until the Greyjoy Rebellion, years after even your brother Robb's birth, for me to realize that I missed her while at war, and for her to fear for me as a person rather than as a faceless husband while I was away."  
  
"But you love Mother, and she you, right?"  
  
"Very much." Eddard's lips twitched up slightly. "I almost started a war, nearly broke Tywin Lannister's jaw when he insulted your mother. But Sansa...stories may not always lie, but they do not tell the whole truth."  
  
"So...are you saying that the heroes of stories can't just wait for the story to happen?" Sansa asked, a little confused.  
  
"I am saying that you need to be more careful with your trust." Eddard ran a hand through his hair and sighed in frustration. "I am sorry, sweetling. I have not been the parent I should have been; I should have returned North the moment Joffrey said that it wasn't his fault you drank that strongwine. Little sh--bastard that he was." Sansa's father's voice contained a heavy trace of residual cold rage. "Starting tomorrow, you will attend a daily training session with Aarne Juutilainen when he is done with His Grace. He will teach you how to stop wicked men from taking advantage of your virtue. I will also teach you how to avoid falling into the traps that I and Robert have. Both are not negotiable."  
  
"But Fahter--it's not ladylike!" gasped Sansa in shock. Eddard waved a hand dismissively.  
  
"To the South, perhaps. But you are a she-wolf of Winterfell, and bear the symbol of our House by your side. You must be a true Lady of the North, and I will not let you suffer the same fate as my sister."  
  
"I...yes, Father. But...if I may ask, what _did_ happen to Aunt Lyanna?"  
  
Eddard started, then slumped slightly with a sigh. "Alright. Come, sit on the bed. Arya, I know that you're listening, you come in too."  
  
A somewhat sheepish Arya Stark slipped in, Nymeria at her heels. Eddard sat on the bed and patted the covers on either side of him. "Come. I will only tell this story once, and neither of you will ever, _ever_ tell another soul. Am I understood?"  
  
"Yes, Father," whispered Sansa, echoed a second later by Arya.  
  
"Good. Now, let me tell you of how Robert and I won a war and lost all that mattered."  
  
By the time he was done, Eddard thought that Arya might hate the Targaryens even more than Robert. And as for Sansa...she bore a look as though she were deep in thought, and barely acknowledged his good-night. Hopefully she would stop listening to those damn fool minstrels, or at least think more deeply about her actions.  
***  
_The Eyrie_  
  
"You need to eat," argued Tyrion Lannister for what felt like the 150th time.  
  
"So do you," protested Lady Stark, who had stopped being quite such a bitch after about the second day in the cells. Hearing about Baelish's execution for treason and her husband's involvement in that probably had something to do with it, Tyrion mused, but that was beside the point.  
  
"My lady, I'm just one man, and barely half of a man at that. You're a strong woman and you're eating for two, you need the food more than me." Both dwarf and lady were braced carefully against the wall of one of the Eyrie's infamous sky cells, trying very hard not to look out the open side. Tyrion had tried, once, and promptly almost spewed his meager lunch. "Come on, you know your husband would want you to eat properly."  
  
"I think that he would settle for my freedom," Lady Stark replied somewhat acidly, but she acquiesced and began to eat the meager helping of bread that Tyrion offered. "And, Imp...I mean, Tyrion. I cannot reconcile what you have done here, with whoever ordered my son killed."  
  
"Honestly, it sounds like Baelish did it as part of some twisted scheme and tried to pin it on the usual scapegoat," said Tyrion with a shrug. "Can't say I'm not used to it. Might have something to do with how your b--your sister was ranting about you "stealing" Baelish, actually. He might've been playing her along, too."  
  
"And here I thought he was my only ally in King's Landing," griped Lady Stark. She'd done a lot of that, but increasingly little of it aimed at Tyrion, and he honestly couldn't really blame her anyway. They hadn't had a very good time at the Eyrie, to say the least.  
  
Something slammed rather hard into the door, followed by a muted curse, a sound of a scuffle, a _thwack_ , and a groan of pain. Tyrion and Lady Stark looked to the door, and were not disappointed.  
  
The door opened, revealing a very large man and a small, wiry man, both in scuffed Arryn tabards, the larger man with a hood concealing most of his face. "Aren't you a little short for a guardsman?" Tyrion asked.  
  
"I made it into the Army, sir, and they didn't really mind there. Lady Stark, Lord Tyrion, come with us; we're getting you out of here."  
  
"Murphy!" gasped Lady Stark, recognizing the little man's voice and peculiar accent. "Are my children safe? Is Ned..."  
  
"Alive and well, ma'am, and trying to contain this mess before it gets any worse. Come on, we need to hurry; Simo's getting the wolf from the kennels, and Lady Death has the horses waiting, but we need to leave."  
  
"Um, should she really be riding?" asked Tyrion. "She is, er, going to have a baby."  
  
"Aw, shit," muttered the big man, and Tyrion recognized the voice; Sandor Clegane. "Murphy, we gotta risk it, not enough time to come up with another plan."  
  
Murphy swore, but nodded reluctantly in agreement. "Yeah, we have to get out of the Vale as fast as possible. Come on, we have five minutes to get out of the keep before the change of the guard is finished, whoever's the commander here isn't very good."  
  
"Probably because the old one got killed in a trial by combat," noted Tyrion. "Ladies first." Lady Stark nodded graciously and accepted the arm of the larger man, Tyrion following and being half-carried by the smaller one. They made all the way to the grounds before all hell broke loose.  
  
"Where the fuck is the damn Finn?" growled the Hound angrily.  
  
"Kennels," replied Murphy. "We can help him if he's having trouble with the locks."  
  
A shout from the kennels and a string of profanity in Finnish announced that there was, in fact, a small problem down at the kennels. Audie Murphy left Tyrion to the Hound and broke into a run, pulling his gun out from beneath his bulky cloak. The man who had shouted, the Eyrie's kennelmaster, yelped in shock, and then protested something about just following orders as Audie Murphy angrily demanded just what, precisely,had this low-down dirty scum been doing to the Lady's dog. There followed another string of profanity in Finnish, and a dark shape by the stables resolved into a solidly-built woman as she darted over to the kennel, something glinting in her hand.  
  
"C'mon," the Hound growled, ushering the Lady and the dwarf towards the stables. "They'll be done in a minute, but we have to leave."  
  
"What did you do to this dog, filth?" yelled the Finn loud enough to be heard clearly from outside the kennels. " _Kuinka kehtaat vahingoittaa tämän koira! Minä ammun teitä, te vitun roskaväkeä, aivan vitun silmään!_ " He slipped into his native Finnish from sheer rage.  
  
The noise drew attention; two men in Arryn livery jogged out of the nearest guardhouse and made for the kennels as the Hound shoved his charges into the stables. "Move, quick and quiet! Lannister, you need a boost?"  
  
"Hmm, let me think...yes, of course I need a damn boost!"  
  
"Don't get fucking snippy with me, imp, I'm the one rescuing you." There was a commotion from the kennels, followed by a couple of yells and the _crack_ of Lady Death's pistol. The Hound got his charges mounted and waited anxiously by the door...  
  
Audie Murphy and Lady Death rushed out of the kennel, the giant wolf loping behind them as they supported a limp Simo Häyhä between them. The White Death's eyes were closed and his head hung limply, blood leaking from a nasty gash on his forehead. "Shit," swore the Hound as the three soldiers stumbled into the stable. "What the fuck happened?"  
  
"They'd been forcing the wolf to fight boars and other wild animals in a pit," snarled Audie Murphy. "Simo and I took offense to that."  
  
"And a great _траханий_ job you two did!" snapped Lady Death. "Now the _Фінський сучий син_ is out, I shot two men in the legs when we were supposed to get in and out without casualties, and the alarm's going to be raised!"  
  
"Bastards shouldn't have hurt the dog," growled Audie Murphy, his glare hot enough to rival the center of a star. "Sandor, you're the biggest, hold him in front of you, we'll lead the spare horse."  
  
"Good idea," growled the Hound, mounting up and hauling the limp, thankfully still-breathing Finn up after him. For all of his power and lethality, the little man was surprisingly, even terrifyingly light. "Got him, let's move!"  
  
The others mounted up swiftly, and the Hound spurred his steed to action as the alarm bells began to toll. Two shots from Lady Death felled the men who were trying to bar the nearest gate, and the Hound leaped his horse right over the guards as they yelled in pain.  
  
"Come on, you little bastard," snarled the Hound. "Stay with me, or your fucking killer woman'll have my hide..."  
  
The Hound was many things, but he was not stupid enough to anger Lady Death.  
***  
Simo woke up, slowly. His head was throbbing. "Ouch. Well, that did not end well! I knew that I should not have gotten into close combat."  
  
"Oh. You're here." The voice was clipped, disgruntled. Simo looked around. Odd. He was on a small, rocky island in a churning sea, waves crashing against a cliff. All was dark, black as a moonless night.  
  
"Hello? Who is there?" Simo reached for his gun, but found nothing. He was alone, not even with his knife. "Where am I?"  
  
Darkness moved. A shadow detached itself from the cliff and flapped heavily forwards, resolving itself into a great swan that landed in the water near Simo's rock. "You are in my realm," the swan said. "For the _second_ time, might I add. And yet it is _still_ not your time. Have you any care for paperwork?"  
  
The Finn blinked. "Ah...I am sorry, not my time? Am I dead?"  
  
"Most irritatingly, you are not," griped the swan. "And this is now the _second_ time you have _insisted_ on living after coming to Tuonela!"  
  
"Tuonela? Like the old stories?" Simo paled as he realized what that meant; he _did_ know the national epic, after all. "So you are...from the Kalevala, the swan?"  
  
"Yes." The swan fluffed her wings. "I am the swan of Tuonela. For ten thousand years I have watched over the after-world of the Finns. And you are the _single most troublesome_ soul that I have _ever_ encountered. Probably for the best, really. It will win a grand wager."  
  
"Wager?" asked Simo in confusion.  
  
"Between the gods of this world and yours. It is...complicated. Primarily for prestige. You have done quite a fine job so far, though." The Swan moved a wing in front of her, and a ball of swirling, starry lights appeared before her feathers. "Ah. You will be out of my feathers soon. Good luck to you, Simo Häyhä, and I hope to never see you again until it is your time to rest."  
  
"I sincerely hope that I never see you again. No offense," replied the Finn, but he was already fading. The last thing he heard was the Swan of Tuonela's honk of laughter.  
***  
"Come on, wake up, _Фінський сучий син_! You shoot too damn well to die on me now, you damn bastard!"  
  
Simo Häyhä swam back to consciousness with a groan and tried to open his eyes. There was a blur, that soon resolved into the hard face of Lady Death, who sighed with relief and leaned closer before checking herself and sitting back. " _Eбать,_ capitalist bastard! You had me terrified, I thought you'd never wake up. Now why did you do something so stupid as to take that man on hand-to-hand? He was a foot taller than you and you're a sniper, not some Tsar-era Cossack in armor!"  
  
"That scum shouldn't have hit _Iso koira_ or made her fight in a pit," Simo replied, slowly levering himself up with a groan. Lady Death rolled back into a crouch, helping him up gently. "I do not like men who hurt dogs, at all. Where are we now? Safe?"  
  
"Just inside the Riverlands, on a cart," Audie Murphy replied from Simo's other side. "Lord Stark and Lord Lannister sent some men, they're taking us back to the capital. Lady Stark and Tyrion Lannister are safe with us, the mission was successful."  
  
"Oh, good. And _Iso koira_?"  
  
"Refusing to let anyone near Lady Stark but me, Tyrion, and Lyudmila. Honestly I think she's a little scared of Lyudmila."  
  
"Nonsense. The dog knows that I am a loyal woman. She is a good dog, very well-trained, very intelligent. You train her, Finnish bastard?"  
  
"A little, she is just a very intelligent dog, really," shrugged Simo. "And see, Audie Murphy! Lyudmila agrees, _Iso koira_ must be a dog, wolves never get so large!"  
  
"I have to doubt that," muttered the American. "But still, good to have you back with us. You're a damn good sniper, best I've ever seen."  
  
White Death blushed profusely. "Oh, thank you! But please, every Finn is good at shooting; you yourself are very good, in my estimation. I am not so special as the man who destroyed an entire tank division!"  
  
"They were killing my friends," Audie Murphy replied. "Any man would've done the same."  
  
"Men," grumbled Lyudmila. "Always doing the damned heroic thing. Women, now, we are more sensible. I would have called for air support, then started shooting Nazi pigs."  
  
"Oh, I did too, ma'am, there just wasn't any for the first couple of hours."  
***  
_The Wall_  
  
Jon Snow was still surprised at just how _bad_ Joffrey was.  
  
First it was the demand to spar with live steel, again. Then it was the expensive fur coat. Then the rich meals, "not this pathetic peasant fare!" Each time, Ser Allister and the quartermaster had either told Joffrey to shut up or outright laughed in his face, and each time he got more and more petulant. Especially after Jon thrashed him in a practice bout.  
  
Now Joffrey was complaining to Ser Allister that it was beneath his royal dignity to do something so _common_ as clean the stables. Jon shook his head; the idiot was just giving the ill-tempered knight more fodder.  
  
"You know," said Ser Jaime Lannister, coming up beside Jon and leaning on the balustrade, "I knew there was something off about that kid, but I never suspected that he was _this_ bad."  
  
Jon stiffened instinctively. "I suppose that's what happens when you fuck your sister like a godsdamned Targaryen," he snapped. Ser Jaime just sighed.  
  
"Lad, I'm not going to defend what I did. I tried that with killing Aerys, and people didn't care that I saved King's Landing, all they gave a shit about was one mad King who spent every night torturing his wife while he fucked her. You don't seem like a bad lad at all, and you get treated like shit because your father couldn't keep his mast in his trousers." Jon rankled at this insult to his father, but Ser Jaime continued. "It's a terrible world out there, Jon Snow. My brother always said, you can either get drunk and feel sorry for yourself, or just be the man the world thinks you are, and that way at least you're a little honest about it."  
  
Jon remained sullenly silent. Ser Jaime watched Joffrey squeal like a pig as he was hauled off to the stables with a disgruntled Ser Allister dragging the protesting ex-prince by his ear, and sighed. "Look, lad, you can ignore me if you want. But trust me, all this world gives a single damn about is looking pretty and being good with a sword. And people agreeing with then on everything, no matter how stupid, of course. Just keep the allies you have, and don't piss them off, and you'll go as far as you honestly can."  
  
"And you know this how?" growled Jon.  
  
"I wasn't always a jaded fool who tried to kill a boy for love," Jaime noted. "Once, I was a lot like you, lad. Only I wanted to be a Kingsguard, not a black brother."  
  
"You're nothing like me."  
  
"I disagree." The Kingslayer sighed again and shoved himself back as the protesting Joffrey was thrown bodily into the stables and the door slammed shut behind him. "But you think what you like, I can't make you do otherwise. Just keep what I said in mind, and keep a close eye on your fellow rangers. Every man up here's a greater or lesser degree of scum, and the few of them that are trustworthy tend to die at the hands of them that aren't." He left, sword at his side and cloak rippling in the breeze.  
***  
_King's Landing_  
  
Lord Stark, Lord Tywin, and the King greeted the returning party at the gates of the Red Keep, the first emotional enough to actually show relief on his icy face, the second attempting valiantly to hold on to his pride, and the third looking like he'd just been through a couple of hours of Finnish basic training, which was technically what he'd just been through.  
  
"Lord Stark," said Audie Murphy with a salute. "Job's done, we got your wife back. Häyhä was injured, but should recover in a couple of weeks. A couple of men got shot, but we hit 'em in the legs and shoulders, they'll recover. One bastard had your wife's wolf locked up and said they were forcing her to fight wild animals in a pit." Murphy's voice still bore palpable rage. "I showed him why that is not a kind thing to do."  
  
"Good. You may take the rest of the week off, Murphy. Cat!" And he was gone, rushing to sweep his wife up in a bear hug, his children following as their wolves bounded up to _Iso koira_ (who proceeded to sniff and poke at her excitable offspring with motherly aloofness).  
  
"Careful with her, sir, she's pregnant!" yelled Audie Murphy. Ned froze, as did most of those present.  
  
"They put _my pregnant wife_ in a _cell_?" growled Lord Stark, his gaze colder than a Minnesota winter by Audie's judgement. "Tell me that you were at least kept in a room, Cat..."  
  
"Lysa ordered me and Lord Tyrion sent to the sky cells, Ned," Lady Stark replied. "I'm sorry that I was unable to tell you, I only found out just before the trial by combat, and I wanted to surprise you..."  
  
"How...how DARE she!" growled Lord Stark. "Your own sister! Why, I should..." Whatever he was going to say was cut off as he wrapped his wife in another hug and buried his face in her shoulder. A muffled "Gods, I'm glad to see you again!" wafted up.  
  
"Hey, not bad," grunted Robert approvingly. "Got her pregnant again, eh Ned? But when, she doesn't look very far along..."  
  
Lady Stark blushed. "We...missed each other greatly, when I last came to King's Landing. We met under the roof of one of Lord Baelish's...ah..."  
  
Robert roared with laughter; Tywin Lannister's lips even twitched upwards slightly. "HAH! Ahahaha! Ned, you randy bastard! You fucked a babe into your wife right under that slime Baelish's nose! Oh, this is too good! OY, LUMPY! GET NED SOME FUCKING WINE, WE'RE TOASTING HIM WELL TONIGHT!"  
  
Lord Stark was crimson red at this point, but Robert patted his old friend on the back anyway. "Best of wishes to you, Ned! And given your luck you and your beautiful lady'll have another fine son out of this, and here I am with only bastards." The King shook his head. "How in the seven hells did I end up with no trueborn sons and you have three with another likely on the way, plus those two fine daughters and maybe a third? Lucky son of a..."  
  
Tywin Lannister turned away from the King as Lady Stark graciously accepted his loud congratulations, and turned to his son. Tyrion stood straight, for once, and looked his father in the eye. Tywin groaned internally . Well, best to get this over with, then.  
  
"Tyrion."  
  
"Father." No sarcasm, for once. Tywin soldiered on.  
  
"You may not have heard, but Jaime has taken the Black, and your sister has been sent to the Faith for her incestuous relationship with him." Tywin gritted his teeth. This part was going to be hard. "You are the sole heir to the Rock now, my son. I expect and demand that you will clean up your disgraceful behavior and act as the heir to the Lannister name should."  
  
"If you treat me with some respect, then I'll stop getting too drunk to see every other night," Tyrion replied, arms crossed. "I'm not stupid, Father. If I'm going to be the Lannister of Casterly Rock, then I need respect. The name of House Lannister needs respect. You taught me that much."  
  
Tywin felt something strange with regard to the Imp; it took a moment to realize that it was _pride_. What was the world coming to? "Watch your tone. But I believe that we can come to an agreement on that matter. In our present situation, I agree that we must rebuild our House's respect in the eyes of the realm. Will you work with me, my son?"  
  
Tyrion looked at Tywin's offered hand, and grasped it firmly. "That was never in doubt, Father."  
  
"Hey, Imp!" half-shouted the King, in high spirits and seeing the other person he'd been waiting to meet. "Do you know numbers?"  
  
"Fairly well, yes. One of my flights of fancy as a lad was to be a maester, I still remember my facts and figures."  
  
"Excellent! You're my new Master of Coin, looks like I can trust you more than that little shit Baelish." The King nearly knocked Tyrion over with a slap on the back. "Fine son you have there, Lannister. ALRIGHT, YOU LOT! GET INSIDE, WE'RE CELEBRATING NED AND MY NEW MASTER OF COIN TONIGHT!"  
  
Tyrion and the rather confused Tywin (unsure whether to be angry or proud) were caught up in the fray and elected to move with the tide of people rather than be crushed, leaving the four soldiers outside, Lyudmila still half-supporting the Finn. "Well," said the White Death with his trademark grin. "That was a good week's work, eh?"  
  
The Hound spat with an affirmative grunt. Audie Murphy and Lady Death nodded in agreement.  
  
"Yes. Now come, Finnish capitalist dog. We need to lay you down so you can recover properly."  
  
"I'll check in with Juutilainen," Audie added. "We need to meet, the four of us, and Sandor, too, and hash out a decent plan for the future. What we have is better than most options here, but this place is a hell-hole."  
  
"Damn right," growled the Hound.  
  
"Good idea," Lyudmila replied. "I'll put the crazy Finn to bed, then you come get me?"  
  
"Yes." Audie saluted crisply. "Well done out there, Commie."  
  
"Well done, American degenerate."

**Author's Note:**

> At his core, Robert Baratheon is still a little rambunctious, and he tends to show his happiness for his best friend in a loud way. Ned...is a quiet sort of guy, and probably doesn't appreciate his dignity being shouted at in public like that, and he's having a crazy day anyway. 
> 
> White Death was the greatest sniper in the history of humanity, but against a medieval knight he just doesn't have the melee training or raw strength to hold his own, and unlike Audie Murphy, who has sheer luck and badassery on his side (again, avatar of Kratos who beat the shit out of a 6'3" behemoth at almost 50 years of age), Simo is a specialist sniper, which means that his melee training is a little rusty since Basic. 
> 
> The bit with White Death and Audie Murphy losing their shit over the direwolf being mistreated was based on a suggestion from Milarqui, thanks a lot Milarqui! 
> 
> Bronn and the Winterfell guardsmen who were with Catelyn: They were stripped of their weapons and armor and kicked out into the Riverlands on Lysa's orders. They made it back to KL shortly after the rescue mission went off.
> 
> "nainen tappaja" is Finnish for "lady killer", which is the best approximation I could find for "Lady Death" since my Finnish buddy is on vacation.


End file.
